Thursday, July 20, 2006

A Letter to My Daughter’s Future Therapist in the Year 2024

Dear Therapist,

First of all, I hope I’m still alive. Or at least frozen at that cryogenetic lab chamber place somewhere in Riverside, California (you know, the same one Walt Disney is at too) that I specifically requested in my Will, written in blood. If not, please call my lawyer and have him serve subpoenas to my entire family, right away.

If my daughter is there, and has done something crazy, or illegal, such as robbing a bank, listening to the Beatles, cross-breeding a cat with a dog, repeats “Elvis works at 7-11” to strangers, claims Barry White as her paternal father, joined a “Trekkie” cult, etc. and is blaming me for her mistakes, I want you to understand why it may not be entirely my fault.

You see - Barry White really is her father. Have her talk to them. And her mother.

5 comments:

Hahahaha...Nothing like a good, old-fashioned disclaimer! Do you think the Elvis thing had anything to do with it? I've often thought about writing a similar letter but figured that with health care costs climnbing, let my daughter's therapist figure the shit out himself!